


Two Men and a Baby

by majesticlolipop



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anthea is the Best PA, First Dates, First Kisses, Fluff, I've never written that, M/M, Multi, Mycroft and Lestrade both want kiddies, Parentlock Fluff, Probably will get a bit angst cos its me writing, Rating Might Change, adorableness, and i might write some smexy times, but anyway, but don't know yet, cos language, first time writing Mystrade, have no kiddies, ill definitely add bad language, oooh, what they gonna do
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5257523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/majesticlolipop/pseuds/majesticlolipop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade both want the same thing, and they aren't getting any younger. Mycroft has a proposition.</p><p>My first Mystrade fic! M rated for bad language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Setting the Stage

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afteriwake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/gifts).



> So I'm starting a multi-chapter fic. I don't know why, but the idea for this fic has not left my head for days. Unfortunately, you won't know what the proposition is until chapter two, this chapter is all background on the characters and why they've ended up in this position. 
> 
> I'm dedicating this fic to afteriwake because she's a darling and has written me two Mystrade ficlets and they are amazing (seriously, check them out).
> 
> Go easy on me. 
> 
> Lots of love, Katch x

**Mycroft**

Mycroft Holmes didn't like children. Well, he didn't like very many children. 

When he was growing up, he had been surrounded by them. Being the middle child, his older brother would tease him relentlessly for his stuffy personality and his compulsion for everything to be perfect. He still looked up to Sherrinford, but he didn’t like him much. Sherlock, however, had been a different story. When he came along, Mycroft was seven. His father brought Mycroft into the living room where his mother sat infront of the fire with a bundle in her arms. This little pink bundle of skin and fat. It didn't do anything, and yet Mycroft couldn't help but love him. His mother had explained to him extensively how the fetus had grown throughout the pregnancy, and thus once Sherlock was born, Mycroft was already enthralled. As the baby grew up, Mycroft felt the need to be a better brother to Sherlock then Sherrinford had been for him. 

When Sherrinford had left and flipped the Holmes family into emotional turmoil, Mycroft was hit hardest. He vowed never to get emotionally attached to anyone else again. He broke himself away from Sherlock, who, seven at the time, was exceedingly clever but emotionally dependable on his family. He didn't understand how Mycroft could just disregard him. Hurt him that much. Mycroft knew it was for his own good; he didn't want Sherlock to feel the betrayal he felt over Sherrinford.  "Sentiment is a chemical defect" he'd always say.

But every time he looked at Sherlock, he still saw that little bundle in his mother's arms all those years ago, and still vowed to keep him protected, albeit silently. 

So no, Mycroft Holmes didn't hate all children, even though he was adamant to say otherwise. 

He'd supressed a lot of these feelings for years, yet, now it was all he could think about. All he could want. He kept dreaming of a little boy following him around his home in a miniature suit (he could hardly wear anything else, could he?), or a little girl with curly red hair asking him dozens upon dozens of questions. He'd wake up feeling warm and yet curse himself for those ridiculous thoughts. 

Soon enough though, those thoughts consumed him, especially after the arrival of his brothers son, Hamish Hooper-Holmes. The boy was a bundle of joy. He was very clever and perceptive for his age, and no wonder, with a father and mother like his. He had his father's humour and his mother's kindness; his father's smirk(which he mastered after month two) and his mother's deep kind eyes. He was everything good about the both of them, and everyone, especially Mycroft, was completely obsessed. Mycroft gradually became more and more enthralled in his nephews life, to Sherlocks amusement and Molly's joy. 

Molly was perceptive, very much so, but never showed it off like her fiancé did. She could see people's emotion, their strengths, and the minute she saw Mycroft with Hamish she knew how close those two would become. She could see how naturally Mycroft was with him, how increasingly unabashed he was to show affection as each encounter progressed. 

With some pursuading, she got Sherlock to agree to let Mycroft take his son for a night. Sherlock couldn't see Mycroft being any sort of father figure; any sort of good supervisor for his child. Yet, he was pursuaded by the prospect of a night of silence and sleep (and other non-sleeping activities) which Molly had so indelicatly whispered into his ear, leaving him with no question but let his brother take his son for a night.  Not without a million different rules and such, of course.

The first time Mycroft had babysitted Hamish for an entire night, it was eventful. The child was at his teething stage, eating and chewing on every surface he could find. He had also began crawling and he was a fast little bugger, much to Mycroft's dismay. Hours were spent playing, changing nappies, and feeding, but after a warm bath, which left Hamish all sleepy and snuggled up against Mycrofts chest, he had just known. 

This is what he wanted. 

* * *

 

**Greg**

Greg Lestrade loved children. Absolutely adored them.

He always had. He knew he must have had some sort of parental instinct, because he was always drawn to them, ever since he was younger. He'd always volunteered to babysit his younger cousins and neighbours. It was just in his nature.

Greg was also a romantic. Not that he'd say it too much, but he'd always known he wanted a family and loving partner. In his mind it had never mattered what gender his partner had been, although he felt a pressure for it to be a woman. Traditional. Cop, wife, kids. That's what he knew his life was going to be. Picture perfect.

Yet it didn't work out like that.

He'd met Jean when he was seventeen. He fell absolutely head over heals in love with her. She was beautiful, clever, funny, and of course liked him back. They had a story book life, she moved with in him after uni, a year later they got engaged, and the year after that they were married. She'd watched him progress in the force, proud of each of his achievements.

When they were married five years, he brought up the question. Children.

And... She didn't want them.

Greg, because he loved her so much, didn't cause a fuss. It had hurt him, much more then he'd admit. He kicked himself for not asking the question sooner. But he loved her. He worshiped the ground she walked on, so to speak. So he didn't mind. And when his sister had a child, he would spend a lot of weekends bonding with his niece. It was fine. He could live with it. 

So life went on. Soon enough he was DI. He was going to dinner parties with his wife and her friends, or spending the nights in with homemade dinners. His life was exactly what it said on the tin. He was happy. Happy enough.

A lot of officers in SY penned him 'Dad' whenever he did something to help the officers he was in charge with. Or how he'd deal with particularly stroppy consulting detectives. 

However, home life didn't stay perfect. Greg's work kept him from home more and more, and Jean couldn't take it. As she had said, he had 'thrown her into the arms of another man'.

The first time she had an affair, he'd forgiven her. It was the one thing he'd always told her he wouldn't recover from, and yet she did it anyway. And he forgave her.

The second time she had an affair, he'd forgiven her. He told himself every day he was an idiot, but he'd loved her. A fool in love. He still needed to grasp onto that picture perfect life that was slipping away.

But the third time she had an affair, he was done. He simply got his friend Mycroft to get him the divorce papers, having no energy to organise it himself, and knowing Mycroft was basically the government, he'd used one of the favours the elder Holmes owed him. When Anthea (he knew it wasn't her name) had arrived at his home with the papers, he quickly signed them and drove his wife's work, dumped them on her desk, and walked out again. And that was that. 

That was seven years ago. 

Now Greg was DCI in Scotland Yard. He had a group of friends, and then a group of people he'd go to the pub with at the weekends. None of his actual friends would join him for that. Unless John was desperate for an hour out of the house and a stiff drink. 

His flat was dingy enough. He could afford a better one, but what was the point? He didn't really do anything but sleep there anyway. It was just him, other then anyone he took home with him every now and then. But nothing stuck. 

And by God, did he want children. 

He was forty three, and he wasn't getting any younger. He wanted to be at home with his child, he wanted to be fit enough to run around after them. And time was definetly ticking. 

It didn't help that a lot of his friends were popping out babies left right and centre. (Boy, was that an image). John and Mary had Mina (Wilhemina after Sherlock's first name, William) and Rory (Grigoriy, after him. He didn't understand why they chose the Russian spelling, but John told him they had reasons.)  

Even Sherlock bloody Holmes had one now. Hamish Hooper-Holmes. He'd been a surprise for everyone, since Molly and Sherlock had kept it a secret that they had been shagging for a year. Everyone teased Sherlock for being an expectant father when Molly was known to be pregnant, but he never minded. Sherlock was, surprisingly, a very attentive father to Hamish and partner to Molly. Their wedding was in two months. 

So here was Greg, in his forties, with no partner, and no children, feeling particularly sorry for himself. 

He sat in the local pub, nursing his third pint as he scrolled through his phone, looking through some files that he'd downloaded. Nothing too major, just something to pass the time. He was awoken from his stupor by a crash of a files on the table. He looked up with a start, to see Mycroft Holmes standing infront of him, looking impeccable in a suit. Probably not what he'd wear if he was going to the pub. 

"Um..hi?" he asked, frowning at him. 

"Gregory, I have a proposition for you." Mycroft said in his calm, collected voice as he sat down opposite him in the booth. 

"Er... And that would be?" he asked, clearing his throat. 

"Well it seems we both want the same thing." 


	2. May Need More Than a Stiff Drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The proposition! Lets get this story on a roll! Rating changed for the F bombs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm hoping the story will flow from now on. Hope you enjoy! I can't believe the response I've gotten! I love you all!
> 
> The ages are messed up but just ignore that okay

Greg stared at the man before him in complete confusion. What the hell was he on about? 'We want the same thing'...?

"We aren't getting any younger Gregory and I think this is the opportune moment for us to proceed with what we want. Now-" Greg watched his elegant fingers flip through the file. He was even graceful in doing something so unconsiquential as that, the prick. _Focus Lestrade!_

"Here is all the paper work I think will help our case." Mycroft said smoothly, handing over a couple of papers into his rather subpar hands.

"A case? Are we working with Sher...." Greg trailed off as his eyes doubled over. He read over the first page and looked at it, well, practically in horror.

* * *

 

Certified Extract Of An Entry of Civil Partnership

**CIVIL PARTNERSHIP**

Civil partnership registered in Registration Authority of: Royal Borough of Windsor and Maidenhead

1: Date and place of Civil Partnership Registration

| 

Twenty-fifth July 2016

The Guildhall High Street, Windsor  
  
---|---  
  
2\. Name and Surname

| 

Mycroft Siger Charles HOLMES

| 

Gregory Peter LESTRADE  
  
3\. Date of Birth

| 

23rd March 1968

| 

6th January 1973  
  
4\. Sex

| 

Male

| 

Male  
  
5\. Condition

| 

Single

| 

Previous marriage dissolved  
  
6\. Occupation

| 

Civil Servant

| 

Detective Chief Inspector  
  
7\. Father’s name, surname, and occupation | 

Siger Charles HOLMES

Homemaker (retired)

| 

Peter James LESTRADE

Labourer (retired)  
  
8\. Mother’s name, surname, and occupation

| 

Violet Amelia HOLMES

Mathematician (retired)

| 

Marie Bridget LESTRADE

Homemaker (retired)  
  
9\. Civil Partnership Signature

| 

Mycroft Holmes

| 

Greg Lestrade  
  
10\. Name and Surname of witnesses

| 

William Sherlock Scott HOLMES

| 

Jenny Marie LESTRADE  
  
11\. Civil partnership registrar’s signiture

| 

Claire Monroe

| 

   
  
 

Greg stared at the sheet for what seemed like an eternity, letting it wash over him. For some reason, he was focused on probably the wrong thing. Did Mycroft really think he was a ‘civil servant’? And Jenny would never sign something marrying him off to a man, she always had ignored his bisexuality.

He groaned and rubbed his face, grasping his pint tightly and downing it whole, before blinking rapidly and sitting back heavily on his chair. "You know if you had a crush on me mate you could have bought me another pint. This is a bit extreme don't you think?"

Greg watched Mycroft as he frowned cautiously and stared back at him, it clearly not really hitting him. Greg willed him to explain and raised a dangerous eyebrow at him. "Uh..Myc? Mate, you basically just married us off. Think you can explain this to me?"

"Uh... Isn't it clear enough, Gregory? What is it you don't understand?"

Greg snorted bitterly. "Well I don't know, hmm.. Let's see.. Because we haven't even _dated_?! And I didn’t think you even did that sort of thing. And for fuck sake Mycroft what am I meant to do with this?! And what has this to with a case?" he was nearly shouting by the end, now it only really hitting him that they were _probably married_ right now.

Mycroft blinked rapidly before it hit him like a tonne of bricks. "Ah, okay, I see you've missed the point. My apologies." he said and cleared his throat, trying to hide the flush over his cheeks. _Interesting._ "You want children."

Greg was even more confused and he gestured to the bartender for another pint. "Um.. I do, yes, but I don't think that's important right -"

"-It is statistically more likely to be granted adoption and surrogacy if you are married, or in our case, in a civil partnership because we are both men, but what can you do. It's to help our case to get a child."

" _OUR_ case?! What is it with you Holmes men and you're inability to state the obvious!" he said as he took the next pint, taking a large gulp.

"You should keep down your alcohol consumption when the baby is here, Detective Inspector. It won't look good to the social worker."

Greg's eye twitched. "I'm only drinking because I'm trying to refrain from throttling you."

"Is that a threat?" Mycroft asked and leaned forward, smirking. Was he _flirting?_

"Okay.." Greg said with a heavy sigh, needing to grasp a bit of reality at the moment. Mycroft’s flirting was going to distract him. "I need you to explain this to me, properly, now. Before I get a migraine." He said in the most serious voice he could muster.

"Well.. I thought it was obvious." Mycroft said flatly as he looked through the file. "We both want a child. We aren't getting any younger, so the quicker we get through the system the better. Yes my minor position in the government-" Greg scoffed at that. "- _would_ give me some leeway, I'm afraid it'll only get me so far. So that is where you come in Gregory. Since you would like a child too, I see it only logical that we are 'married', and show that we are in a committed relationship so that we can be granted either adoption, or surrogacy, whichever we decide on but that's another conversation. I know we aren't in a committed relationship but that hardly matters on paper. As long as it looks like legally we are we will be able to try for a child. And I'm sure you would rather your child grow up with two parents." 

Greg listened intently and then put his head in his hands. How could he agree to this? This man was asking him - No, scratch that- telling him that they were married, that they were going to apply for a child and that they practically had their lives planned out for the next twenty years! 

"You'd stay in my home of course." Mycroft continued. "My home is much more accommodative to raising a child, excuse the rudeness although I'm sure your used to it with my brother. You would just have to play up to the social worker a few times. And-" 

"Is this real?" Greg demanded, lifting the civil partnership certificate again. "Like, am I legally married to you?"

"Well I didn't want to trouble you with paperwork. I thought if I handled it we could-" 

"Mycroft, shut your mouth -" _your bloody gorgeous mouth, but that’s not the point_. "For one bloody second! Okay, look, let me be the emotional side in this - I can't believe I'm saying this- relationship, alright? I'm not going to pretend to be married to you for a number of reasons. Yes, I desperately want children. Thanks for reminding me. And I appreciate the offer, but a child deserves to be brought up in a loving home. I know I'll love them and you will too, even if you deny you have a heart. But we don't love eachother Mycroft. What if one of us wants a relationship?  I don't know about you mate, but I'm not going to survive twenty years with no shagging, I'll tell you that much. And I'm not going to... I can't.. I can't sleep with someone if I'm married to you. Even if the marriage isn’t real. Even if we don't have an emotional connection... It's just morally wrong."

"I thought we did have an emotional connection?" Mycroft asked tentatively. He steeled his face to be cold, but Greg had caught on to an emotion before that. Was it...hurt?

"We're mates, yeah." he said gently and watched him intently. "I mean we've been mates nearly twelve years at this point. But that isn't the same as true, unadulterated, love, Mycroft. I care about you but... I need to be attracted to someone, to love them, to-"

"You are attracted to me though." Mycroft asked, his face in a frown again. Greg flushed a bit and took another sip of his pint. 

"That's not the point, the point is-"

"And you've strong feelings for me. Stemmed from a long friendship, sure, but there is a sexual aspect to it too. So I don't see the problem."

Greg stared at him for a long moment before sighing. Of course he’d known. Of course he did, how did he think he could outsmart Mycroft Holmes. He let out a soft breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Mycroft have you ever dated someone? "

"Tad bit personal, don't you think?" Mycroft said clearly, his strong features steeled calmly.

"Well I thought married couples told eachother everything." Greg said snarkily. 

"If you must know, I have, in my uni days. Nowadays it's just..."

"One night stands?" Greg finished with a slight smile. "I know the feeling. But Mycroft… can't you see where this could go wrong? I can't just..agree to this right now?"

"I can give you time?" Mycroft proposed, very eagerly. 

Their eyes met for a long moment and Greg stared, before he sat back. 

"Alright. Give me time. In the mean time though, I ask you one thing."

"And what's that?"

"Go on a date with me."                                                

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Civil Partnership form is based of Sir Elton Johns. I did my research! Next chapter is our boys' first date...


	3. Preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg gets interrogated by Sherlock, and Anthea has to help Mycroft get ready..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I know, its been AGES! My health is so shite at the moment, so I don't know when I'll next update. The Mycroft part of this chapter was written at Christmas. I don't get a lot of access to the laptop that I share, but I think now that its summer I should have much more time and hopefully some inspiration! I wanted to go straight onto the date, but 2k words later and they still aren't on the date. Woopsies! That will definitely be the next chapter. Also, I gave Anthea a different name.
> 
> I want to thank everyone for liking this fic! Since I wrote this I've done some Mystrade artwork which I'm INSANELY proud of, especially because the response I got on tumblr was completely insane. They are also up on here if you'd like a gander! I might include them in this at some point! :)  
> My tumblr is the same as this, majesticlolipop, although I tend to leave a lot! 
> 
> Also want to note that even though I'm Irish and my first language is technically English, I spoke mostly Irish until I was 13 and so my English is still sometimes poor because of it. I'm so much better than when I was 13, but some words and grammar I still tend to mess up! 
> 
> This isn't Beta'd!

“LESTRADE!”  
  
Greg rolled his eyes and turned at the sound, just raising an eyebrow at the one and only Sherlock Holmes, who started yelling about something important that wasn’t actually that important at all.

“Sherlock, I’m not going to get you access to dangerous chemicals!” He said, collecting some files on his desk and deciding which ones he wanted to look over the weekend. 

“But _why_?” Sherlock practically whined and sat down on Lestrade’s desk chair, making Greg roll his eyes.

“You’re just snarky because Molly won’t get them for you. And if I know anything about women, going behind her back to get them anyway is a dick move, mate.” He mused and started packing away some stuff in his bag. 

“Molly doesn’t understand! This is an important case! I need to know!” the consulting detective very nearly pouted, making Greg have to try and hold back a laugh. 

“Mate, it’s either forget about that experiment or use another safer chemical to have in the house with a toddler who can get into _any bloody crevice_ , or you’re going to get on the wrong side of Molly. We all know she’s a feisty one when you piss her off.” 

“She’ll probably put me on a sex ban again.” Sherlock grumbled, trying to peek on the files on the table, messing them up trying to find one that wasn’t boring.  
  
“Okay, I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just say that, and – Hey stop messing with my stuff you bastard! Look, go annoy John or something. I know the wedding planning is doing your head in and you just need what Mary organized when you and John started freaking out over the last wedding. Go on a case or an adventure or whatever you and him get up to, then come home to your wife’s and children and try not to piss the whole world off. You know, I don’t even care what you do, just get out of my office so I can go home.” He said, a pen flying past his head, flung by the very cretin lounging back on his chair.  
  
“Why are you going home? You’ve stayed at this pathetic excuse of a police force until at least eight p.m. every Friday. Then you proceed to go the local drinking establishment, drink too much for your liver to properly break down before perhaps going home with some sleezy conquest of yours to quench your aching libido and so the cycle continues.” He mused, and Greg wished Sherlock’s ability to put his life in a little box didn’t annoying him as much as it did. Hopefully that box may change soon, though.

“I chose to have an early evening. Being DCI has it’s privileges.” He said simply and hummed, hoping Sherlock wouldn’t deduce it. 

“You’re going on a date. Boring.” Sherlock mused and started flicking through a file again. _There, dodged a bullet._ Thought Greg, gently kicking Sherlocks foot to get him out of the chair, before two bright, nearly gleeful eyes looked up at him.  
  
“No! No, not boring…” Sherlock exclaimed and stood up, coming way too close to Lestrade’s face for the older mans liking and he scanned him, walking around in a slow circle before his eyes narrowed. “This is different for some reason.”

“Do you really want to deduce who I’m taking on a date?” Greg asked, starting to get the slightest bit nervous. He didn’t really need that ‘you hurt my big brother I hurt you’, speech. That was surely done after the announcement that they were in a civil partnership because they wanted kids?

“Either this or chemicals.”  the man said and smirked like a cheeky boy who outsmarted his parents would, tilting his head and looking over his friend. “You got your hair cut, which you never do, on your lunch break. You want to go home first so you can get changed, which means your shirt and jeans that you’re wearing now isn’t appropriate. And being _you_ , with no sense of what is stylish-” that was interrupted by an ‘OI!’ from Lestrade. “-it must be a significant clue since you would usually just wear what you’re wearing now. So either you want something easy to take off or more sophisticated.” _Or both... Focus Lestrade!_

“Sophisticated I think.” Sherlock continued. “So this woman, whomever she is, must be rich, or powerful. You are usually in the position of power since for some odd reason, women think your job is admirable and apparently you are physically attractive, according to Mary and Molly who have coined you a 'silver fox'.” Said with air quotes and a sour expression.

  
“What, are you serious?” Greg said with a laugh, grinning a bit and also trying to distract the man in front of him.  
  
“I was as confused as you were. Apparently they were trying to, in Mary’s words, ‘take the mickey’ out of myself and John by listing off the attractive people they knew.”  
  
“Mate, they were trying to get you jealous.” He said with a smirk.  
  
“Nonsense, like Molly would ever want to copulate with the likes of you.” Sherlock sniffed proudly.

 “I don’t go after taken women anyway, Sherlock, so you’re safe.” And boy, was that flick of relief that washed over Sherlock’s face a lovely sight to see. Poor lad still was so insecure about the whole 'having a relationship' thing, not that he’d _ever_ admit it.

 “To get back on topic, you’re going on a date with…from what I can deduce, the female version of my brother.” The thought made the younger Holmes gag.

 _Wow, isn’t that a good sign._ “Well, do with that as you will, but as you said, I need to change into clothes that aren’t these ones. Off you pop!” He said and put his hands on Sherlock’s back and pushed him out of the office with a lot of complaining from the younger Holmes, that ended in Greg having to promise a good case and his word that Sherlock would work with him.

 

Once Greg had finally saw Sherlock tucked into the back of black cab and away from him, he let out a sigh. What _was_ he going to wear?!

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_"How strange, this feeling that my life's begun at last_

_This change, can people really fall in love so fast?_

_What's the matter with you, Cosette?_

_Have you been too much on your own?_

_So many things unclear_

_So many things unknown."_

"Must you play such awful music? " Mycroft groaned as he tried desperately to pick a tie. Burgundy? Too festive perhaps….suited for the winter months. Perhaps the blueberry...

"What's wrong with a bit of Les Miz boss? And don't you think the lyrics are very much fitting to your situation?" 'Anthea' – Or Esther, as she was actually called, teased him. She wore a cheeky smile as her heals clicked against his walk in closet's floor, picking up a charcoal coloured tie on the way over to the nervous man, tilting her head to the side with a thoughtful expression to check it looked appropriate against his slightly navy pinstriped suit.

"If you dare play another one of those ridiculous things you think are music, Esther, I will have to fire you." Mycroft mused as he sighed dramatically, looking at himself in the mirror with a sour expression. This would _not_ do…

"You can't fire me. Who'd do all your work for you?" his P.A. teased. "And who'd keep you sane enough to go on a date with someone you've been lusting after for God knows how many years -ah yes definetly the charcoal."

"I have not been _lusting_ after him. How dare you say such a thing." Mycroft said defiantly, although not as menacingly as he would have liked, since she was, in-fact, probably right. Not that he'd admit it.

"Ah no, you'd prefer something along the lines of 'admiring from afar'." she mused and grinned at him before moving to look through his cologne collection.

Mycroft rolled his eyes at her but stayed quiet, concentrating on tying his tie around his neck, making sure it lay proportional to his shirt and waistcoat.

"He's nervous too you know. " Esther mused, quirking a smile to his direction from over her shoulder.

Mycroft hummed, trying to play off like he was nonchalant and not secretly relieved beyond belief that he wasn't the only one. So he went easy with a breezy reply. "Is that so?"

"Yes." the woman said as she walked over to him, handing him the bottle of his most expensive bottle of cologne. "He's left his flat approximately four times since his work shift ended – which he left earlier than usual- to either go for a walk, have a sneaky smoke or pick up needless items in Tesco to distract himself. So relax boss. You probably do have the upper hand like always." she mused with a smile as she cleaned off some lint from his suit jacket.

"Well I do prefer to have the upper hand." Mycroft mumbled and took the cologne, spraying it against his neck and against his wrists. He did quite enjoy the smell of that one, he'd have to ask Esther what make it was. He wondered if Gregory would like it too. Wondered if he'd just rest his head against his shoulder just so he could be close to him and the aroma. He wondered if his date would find it pleasing, wondered if...

"I've lost you." Esther said teasingly and raised an eyebrow at him before she flicked through her phone. "You've approximately twenty minutes before the car is leaving to go on your date. How about a drink?"

Nothing sounded better to him at that moment.

"Yes." he said with a nod and watched his PA waltz out of his closet and down to his study, the closest area to them at this moment to-which his scotch was held. He took those precious moments alone to try and calm himself down. He was thankful for Esther, always had been. She was a wonderful PA, and a much better friend. She used to tease him that she was his work wife, and he could hardly disagree. But he needed a few moments to let himself get these ridiculous emotions out of the way. He was always so very good at controlling them, but lately they seemed to consume him. Especially if Gregory was the topic of his thoughts. He’d always known from the minute he’d seen the man that he’d be trouble. By that time, Mycroft had completely sworn off relationships and intimacy and it took him a good five years to actually admit that he was completely head over heals over the man. He hated it. He thought it was a weakness. But… how could anything relating to Gregory be a weakness?  
He looked over his appearance again in the mirror. Since that meeting a week and a half ago, he had started to let his anxiety towards the unknown completely eat him up. And you could tell. He looked about seventy! At this rate he’d have no hair for their date, and Greg might fall into his dark circles, which he was touching when Esther came in with a glass of scotch and a roll of her eyes.

“Sir.” she said and handed him his tumbler of scotch. “Relax, or I’ll start singing Les Miz again.” She said with a grin, patting his cheek.

“Oh please God no.” Mycroft replied, taking a long swig of his drink, humming at the taste. 

“I’d make a bloody brilliant Eponine. You’d have to actually stay until the end of the second act though.” She mused with a grin. “You’d watch my dramatic death.”

“Well you have done well to act that out before.” He mused with a smirk. “But there is no way I’m ever seeing that show again.”

 “For someone who appreciates the finery in life, you are an idiot for not respecting the finery of Les Miserables.” She said with a grin before checking her phone again. “Better go boss, I suspect Lestrade isn’t going to last longer waiting at home and you _do_ prefer to be there first.”

Mycroft’s eyes widened and he took another calming sip of his scotch before nodding, taking the coat that Esther handed him and walked with her briskly, not sure he wanted to speak yet since his nerves had him shattered.  
They walked out to a waiting black car, and Esther smiled, patting his arm gently. 

“Good luck, Boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH 
> 
> Much loves and cuddles to you all! This was written on a whim to distract myself as I'm currently going through a lot of health issues. Hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Much love and cuddles and everything happy and nice to you all and I hope to see you next chapter!


	4. Steak and Monkfish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the date! How will our boys do..?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So again I wrote a 2k chapter at 2 am and was too excited not to post! 
> 
> I did kinda broach the subject of Mycroft's attitude to food/eating disorder. Just putting that out there! This is not Beta'd.
> 
> Please enjoy!

_Okay… It’s going to be fine. You’ve been on dates before… you’ve been married for Christ’s sake! It’s going to be completely and utterly fine. He’s going to find you charming and sexy. He finds you attractive right? Or…Or does he? He didn’t actually say he did… He knew I had the hots for him but… shite. Stop sweating, you twat! Let’s get a beer first…alcohol is going to calm me down right? Right. I’m going to be early so I’ll have time to prepare and enjoy the pint until the ginger bastard comes and makes me all nervous again. You’ve got this Lestrade…_

 

“Good evening, Detective Inspector.”

 

_Fuck._

 

“Mycroft! You’re… you’re early!” Greg’s eyes roamed the man in front of him, making the man have to swallow thickly. Wasn’t that a tight suit! And that smirk should be illegal.

 

“I could say the same sentiment to you also. Shall we sit? I see our table is reserved.” Mycroft said in a nonchalant voice, that went right through Lestrade who just dumbly nodded and walked with the man to their table, thanking the waitress who took his jacket and gave them both a menu before being off.   
  
“A drink, Mycroft?” Greg offered, not sitting down just yet, using the bar as an excuse to get his baring’s.   


“That would be pleasant. A brandy, if you please.” His date replied, his eyes darting up to Lestrade's from his seat which made the man calm a bit and quirk him a smile before being off to get them both a drink.

 

_Where is your silver fox sex appeal now you idiot? You know Mycroft! Just treat this as one of our monthly meetings… banter and good food. No different. Yeah, no different…._

“Here you are mate.” Greg said with a smile as he came back to the table, putting Mycroft’s brandy in-front of the man before sitting down opposite him, taking a swig of his larger before placing it down. “I’m sorry if this isn’t quite what you’re used to.” He gestured to the restaurant. “But its posh enough, and the food’s unreal.”  
  
“Honestly, Gregory, you do tire of some establishments, especially if most of the time you are only in attendance to deal with some government official or another. Tonight is a fresh experience, and one I am quite looking forward to.”   
  
_Damn his sexy posh diction._ “Well I am technically dealing with a government official tonight am I not?” Greg replied with the most charming grin he could muster, sitting back in his seat. _There’s that smirk again, keep going._ “Anything.. taking your fancy tonight?”

 

Mycroft took a slow sip from his glass before his eyes stayed locked with Greg’s. “Many things, yes.” He mused, making Greg feel rather warm. “But if you were referencing food, I think I shall go with the monkfish.”

“What else would I be referencing?” Greg asked with a cheeky grin, not even looking at his menu. “I’ll get the steak.”  
  
“Of course.” Mycroft said with a fond roll of his eyes. “Do you ever choose anything else?”

“I like my iron. Makes me big and strong to keep the baddies off the streets.” He mused. “How else do you think I stay this big and bold?”  
  
“My apologies, I had assumed it was the donuts.” Mycroft said with a smirk, making Greg laugh good-naturedly and shake his head in amusement, the waitress coming over to take both their orders before she went on her way again, leaving Greg to be able to admire the man in front of him. Mycroft always dressed himself impeccably; it was almost second nature to the man now. But tonight…well it seemed that he put in a bit more effort. The thought put Greg at ease, knowing that his date _wanted_ to make an effort for their rendezvous. There was still that niggling doubt at the back of his mind that perhaps this was all a game to Mycroft but… that was the point of this date was it not?   
  
“Gregory.” The word bolted Greg out of his thoughts and he looked up at Mycroft face, seeing a mix of humor and …was that shyness?  
  
“Oh um… Sorry.” He mused. “Zoned out there for a sec.”

“Long day at work?” Mycroft asked his date casually, thanking the waitress as their starters arrived.   
  
“Er…yeah long day.” They both knew that wasn’t the reason. “You know how it is… Working with people sometimes is utter shite.. you really do need the patience of a saint. Like earlier….” And with that, Greg started to discuss any news in Scotland Yard as they ate; talking to Mycroft about some cases they were both on, laughing and chatting like anyone on a date would. Greg slowly started to relax more and began flirting a bit more, treating this like any other first date and trying not to remember how much hung on the outcome of it. Half way through the main course he stood, wiping his mouth with his napkin before setting it aside. “Be back in a tic, don’t steal my chips.” He said with a grin before heading to the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

 

Mycroft watched as his partner for the evening walked towards the lavatories, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. This was going so well! He thought he’d be much more nervous than he was, but seeing his date become this bundle of nerves in front of him gave Mycroft the confidence he usually had in his usual day-to-day life. And he couldn’t believe how much he was enjoying himself! The food wasn’t half as bad as he’d anticipated, he’d gotten to see Greg get flustered and hear his melodic laugh. And when they weren’t talking, didn’t he have a sight to rest his eyes on! Greg looked completely ravishing, in Mycroft’s opinion. It was a rare sight to see Greg out of anything work related, and Mycroft was secretly gleeful that _he_ was the exception and got to see the detective like this. Greg wore a midnight blue shirt with a brown tweed jacket, the first two buttons undone that nearly had Mycroft pushing the man into the back of his black car to see what was underneath. What a teasing man! And to pair the combination with form fitting slacks! It was nearly sinful. Especially when said sinful legs were now walking towards him, a near identical sinful grin on the occupants face.   
  
“Hope you didn’t miss me too much.” Greg mused with a grin, sitting back down and plopping a chip into his mouth via his fingers.   
  
“Had I waited any longer, I perhaps would have needed to call in reinforcements.” He replied smoothly, placing his fork and knife across his finished plate.   
  
“Nice to know I’d be taken care of if I was ever abducted while taking a piss.” Greg said with a grin, sitting back and humming, his eyes and roaming over him, and Mycroft was surprised his skin didn’t have any lasting burns the contact.   
  
“Your life is of upmost importance, Gregory. Shall we be having dessert?” He asked, sitting back as he watched his date take another chip and savour the taste, taking a few moments to reply.   
  
“Depends on what you mean by dessert.” _Holmes’ do not blush._ The gleeful look on the face of the man in front of him told Mycroft that his mantra did not stop his body’s response.

 

“Are you insinuating something?” Mycroft replied, keeping his eyes locked with the deep chocolate ones that had the ability to stop world wars in his opinion.   
  
“What would there be to insinuate?” Greg said, his voice dropping a bit. “I think I’ll have the apple tart. And for you?”  
  
Mycroft kept their contact for a while longer before his eyes dropped to the menu, and he felt the need to clear his throat. “Perhaps I could skip the sweet treat this time.”  
  
Greg’s eyes lost a bit of its sparkle at that and he leaned forward. “You’re not on one of those stupid diets again, are you?”

 Mycroft was certain his cheeks _did_ colour that time, and not for the same reasons. He didn't meet Greg's eyes and just hummed, holding his body a bit straighter. “I do not think that matters at the moment.”  
  
“’Course it does.” Greg replied. “I don’t want to see you go through all that again.”  
  
“Go through what exactly?” The harshness of his voice was notable, and he almost cringed at it. Damn his sentiment.   
  
“You know what,” Greg replied coolly. “You figured out that I was sexually attracted to you, Mycroft, so it’s no secret. And so I can say this; you’re bloody gorgeous, and you don’t need some stupid diet. You’re healthy and fit and I will _not_ see you think you need to change anything about yourself. But… if you don’t want dessert than we won’t get any tonight. I’ll get the bill shall I?”  
  
Mycroft was stunned into silence and he just stared at the man in front of him, swallowing thickly and watching as Greg’s expression softened and his warm, large hand covered his pale thin one. “I’ll get the bill. How about a walk after this yeah?” he said in his gentle voice and before Mycroft had time to reply, the detective was out of his seat and smiling at the man behind the desk to pay for their meal. Mycroft took a few moments to process what had happened before he stood up, buttoning back up his suit jacket as he did, smoothing it down as an act of composure. Greg came over with both their coats and smiled at him as he handed Mycroft’s over and slipped his own jacket on.   
  
“Come on you, it’s a nice evening. Your place isn’t that far from here, and how often do blokes get to walk Mycroft Holmes home?” he said with a grin and led the way out after Mycroft had put on his coat, the two men stepping out into the brisk night air that London had to offer and walked in the direction of Mycroft’s home. They walked in silence, the two lost in their own thoughts, before the silence was broken by a question from Greg.   
  
“Did you have a good night?” he asked, his voice tinged with hope and nervousness.   
  
“It was very agreeable. Although I should reimburse you for my share.” Mycroft replied.   
  
“Nonsense.” Greg waved it off. “Not every day I get to take James Bond out to dinner.”

That made Mycroft laugh softly, and the action made his chest feel a little less constricted. “Hardly of James Bond standard.”  
  
“Oh come off it! You’re mysterious and sexy and we all know you’re the one pulling all the strings. You’re like real life James Bond, which is infinitely cooler in my opinion.” Greg shot him a grin at that and Mycroft wished he had a camera to capture that exact moment of the utterly beautiful man in the light of the street lamps.   
  
“You are delusional, my dear. But I do owe you; that restaurant is hardly cheap.” He mused, knowing that although he himself was well off, Lestrade was from a family that worked hard for their money.   
  
“Maybe you can pay me back in another way.” Greg mused, smirking at him. “Look, we’ve arrived already.” He said, putting his hand on Mycroft’s back, Mycroft feeling the heat of it even through all of his layers. As calmly as he could, he took out his key, and unlocked the door, praising himself for completing the action with still hands before turning to look at his date. “Would you like to come in?” he offered in barely a whisper, his eyes searching the other mans.   


“No.” came the reply, and Mycroft didn’t quite know whether he should be as disappointed as he was, before he felt Greg move closer, pulling him towards him by the small of his back. “There is something I _would_ like, however…” and before Mycroft could register the gooseflesh that Greg’s voice had caused, his lips were met with warm ones that slowly moved against his. He didn’t know whether the gasp was from him or Greg; but he didn’t care. All his attention was on the lips that were currently moving against own, and when Mycroft let his own eagerness towards the action come through, he felt Greg grin against his mouth. With a slight tease of his tongue, Greg moved his head away and looked up at him, his dark eyes nearly black. “Goodnight, Mycroft…” he breathed against his lips, and with one last kiss he pulled away. A soft grin was playing on Greg's lips at Mycroft standing stoic and stunned in front of him. “I think I’ll need another date before I make my decision.” He said before nodding once and turning to leave.

“Gregory?” Mycroft said, his voice nearly breathless. He watched Greg turn around a look at him, waiting for what he wanted to ask.   
  
“Another date would not be…disagreeable.” He said finally, making his counterpart grin wider and nod, walking away with a bit of a wave.   
  
“Goodnight Mycroft.”  
  
And what a good night it was….  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably going to end up in smut, but I haven't written that before. However, the way this story is going I have a feeling there will be smut. Hope you enjoyed! Comments make my day! Lots of love and cuddles and I'll see you next chapter! -Katch xx


End file.
